


Deep in the Barrow Dens

by AnalogueClockodile (AlternativeImaginativeBrand)



Category: Heroes of the Storm (Video Game), World of Warcraft
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Crossover, Established Relationship, F/F, F/M, Implied Relationships, Lemon, Oral Sex, Past Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-13
Updated: 2015-08-13
Packaged: 2018-04-14 12:32:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4564800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlternativeImaginativeBrand/pseuds/AnalogueClockodile
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inspired by the AU insinuated by Illidan, Malfurion and Tyrande's Shan'do, Betrayer and Warden skins (go look 'em up in the store)</p>
<p>Tyrande loves Illidan just as dearly as he loves her, but she gets lonely while he's away in the Emerald Dream for so long. Lonely and <i>needy</i>. Fortunately, her lieutenant is also dear to her, and the Wardens have no rules against copulating with each other during down time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Deep in the Barrow Dens

**Author's Note:**

> No real comment. I felt I wanted to write this, so I did. it cut into my schedule quite a bit, but I did it. 
> 
> So go ahead and read it, review it and tell me if you like it. I've got no time for snarky commentary; I'm just glad to have it done.

Tyrande gasps rhythmically in time to the pleasurable feeling of a tongue licking, flicking and teasing the walls of her folds. The warm, wet feeling of the tongue on her bare flesh is a sharp contrast to the cold, dry armour plating that restrains and denies access to her ample bosom and curvy waist. The normally stoic, professional warrior is now sitting on a small ledge-like rock leaning back against the walls of the Barrow Deeps with her legs spread wide apart, her helmet gazing up at her from the floor and the fabric of her skirt dangling on the edge of her perch; below her, one of her warriors is dutifully lapping away at the soft spot between her legs while caressing her thighs with long, elegant fingers.

Her eyes are closed softly, but Tyrande decides she dares to open them to gaze upon their surroundings; resisting the temptation to ride away the wave of pleasure granted by her erstwhile companion, she peeks them open and glances over to either side. To her left, a huntress is lying atop an archer, the huntress' lips glued to her partner's neck as her fingers run across the archer's exposed stomach muscles, the other woman gripping her shoulders tightly; to her right, two more archers ply their ministrations on a dryad, one sticking her fingers in and out of her pussy while the other straddles her lower torso and plays with her breasts and buries her face in her leafy green hair, the half-deer woman's cheeks adorably flushed. As Tyrande lazily gazes around the damp and dirty but well-lit cavern, she sees many more women of the Watchers likewise entangled, some in pairs and some in groups. A musky smell is slowly filling the room and all around her she hears the smacking of lips and the moans and cries of those like her who are receiving the ministrations of their comrades-in-arms. The Wardens, normally the staunch jailors of the Betrayer, have here abandoned their weapons and fallen into an orgy. 

Tyrande longs to touch herself as she sees her less-clothed warriors doing, but the clasps that keep her armour in place are on her back, just out of reach even for her nimble fingers. Sighing, she fumbles to remove her gauntlets, wondering briefly why she hasn’t done so sooner, and drops them near her helmet. Her hands rest on the head of her lover, fingers delving into dusky blue hair soft as silk. The other woman hesitates at her touch. 

"M-Mistress?" she murmurs, pulling away to angle her face towards Tyrande's but leaving her hands atop the older warrior's shapely legs. 

Tyrande sighs in a mix of sexual and actual frustration. "Now, Maiev, we've been through this," she begins. "You don't have to call me 'Mistress' when we copulate together; I've told you many times before that you can call me Tyrande. In fact, I'd prefer it if you did."

Maiev, normally severe and grim, looks up at her with mixed embarrassment and bewilderment; perhaps she is expecting her superior to order her to dress herself and retrieve her bow and arrow. Tyrande sighs again, this time affectionately, as one of her hands disentangles itself to touch Maiev's cheek. It is surprisingly warm and rosy against her palm and the inside of her fingers, and the other woman seems to relax into her touch. "I know... Tyrande," she said with equally surprising meekness. "But I've known you as 'Mistress' for five thousand years now; I know we knew each other before then, but I have a hard time thinking of you as you were when we were Sisters of Elune. I just always think of you as... my mistress, my superior, my..."

"Yes, yes, I understand," Tyrande interrupts, her thumb rubbing along the markings on Maiev's gaunt cheekbone. "At any rate, I was not seeking to discomfort you. I wished to ask you to go... deeper."

Maiev's eyes, which had drifted closed under her touch, shoot open wide at the request. "Deeper?" she almost splutters. 

Closing her eyes and chuckling for a moment, Tyrande nods. "Yes, deeper. You don't have to if you don't-"

"Mistress, I..." Maiev interjects. "I-I-I mean, Tyrande, you have no idea how long I've waited to hear you say that! I've..." - she pauses to look around before continuing - "I've dreamed about you asking me to go deeper! I've daydreamed about you repaying me in turn! I've..."

A hearty laugh erupts from Tyrande's mouth. "Okay Maiev, I understand. I admit, I've held back from asking these last few years because I wasn't sure if you wanted to be with me in that way." 

Maiev kisses each of Tyrande's thighs, then sucks the former priestess' pinky into her mouth. As Tyrande visibly struggles to hold in a childlike giggle, she lets go of said finger, smiling up at her as innocently as possible. "Oh Mistress, I may not always have wanted to be with you so intimately, but I knew that I did want to be closer than I was then when I first arrived."

Tyrande can't help herself from cooing and awwing a little; Maiev is being adorable, though she dares not mention it to her. She slowly draws Maiev up into a position between bending down and standing up, claiming her lips in a tender embrace. 

Maiev is an instinctual learner, Tyrande can tell. She was slow to pick up the dynamics of kissing, but under Tyrande’s instruction she gained an almost elementary understanding of the subtle interplay of pleasure, affection and a casual struggle for dominance. She went from anxiously mashing her lips against Tyrande's to twisting and turning, her lips slipping across the other woman's mouth like butter in time to the wet chorus of lips smacking together; she went from ineptly gripping Tyrande's shoulders to grasping and pulling the straps holding up her breastplate, to Tyrande's joy in the present as she feels the air on her bare flesh once again; once, she didn’t even know how to kiss with her tongue and could barely open her mouth to allow Tyrande entrance, but now she can pull and grasp with equal parts aggression and accommodation. 

It is with a gasp that they pull apart. Maiev is smiling broadly. "I'm ready," she affirms. "Only say it, Mistr- Tyrande," she once again corrects herself just in time, "and I shall obey. " 

A whisper and a nod is all the encouragement her lover needs. Tyrande's free hand goes to the ledge, pushing herself up to allow Maiev to grip farther up her legs if she is daring enough to. Sure enough, the woman kneeling reverently before her clit penetrates the outside of her folds with her tongue, then slips her hands in under Tyrande's skirt to grasp her well-rounded and delightfully womanly hips. 'If Illidan and I ever have a child... I'll have no issue with carrying them to term,' an absent-minded part of Tyrande muses. Food for some thought, perhaps? That line of thought, however, leaves her mind along with all other thoughts when she feels the silky tongue rubbing all over her the insides of her pussy. The grip on her hips tightens as Maiev pauses to adjust her kneeling stance for a moment; from there, she becomes ever more daring as her gripping fingers slip upwards to take her buttcheeks in each hand, almost holding Tyrande in a sitting/crouching position while her lover moans beautifully, her hands alternating between brushing through Maiev's hair, caressing the sensitive parts of her pointy ears or bringing her free hand up to caress her own breasts, starting by drawing a finger through her cleavage. "Oh, Maiev," Tyrande mutters, Maiev's ministrations and her own rampant hormones leaving her quite sluggish at the moment. "Oh, had I known you were such a quick learner, and so industriously devoted... I would have asked you to go deep years ago. I love Illidan the most, as has always been the case..." she bites her lip, "But I love you too. You are a dear, dear person to me. -gasp!- Touch me, please! Hold onto me and don't let go..." 

She hasn't the time to mutter anything else, as Maiev's tongue finds her sensitive spot and sends her shuddering into an emotional climax. Sitting down gingerly, Tyrande slips her hands back into Maiev's hair and smiles down at her sleepily. "Thank you, Maiev," she sighs, as she idly plays with the other woman's hair. 

The junior Warden's face is bright scarlet, but she returns the smile. "There is nothing to thank me for, Mistress Tyrande." She begins to straighten up from her half-standing position, her hands gently clasping those of the seated markswoman. She pulls Tyrande up from the rock, then embraces her. "I did things for you I would scarcely do for another of my sisters, for I love you as well, nigh more than any other." 

As she is easily slipped into a kiss Tyrande ponders her lover's words. 'Nigh more than any other'? What is she to take from that? Nothing, she supposes. And yet it niggles at the back of her mind, even as she crowes at the feeling of Maiev's dextrous fingers finding her bosoms while her own run up and down Maiev's exposed waist and midriff. As their lips come apart, Tyrande sighs with relief as her hands stroke and run over the smooth, clean skin. The other woman whines briefly that her tummy is ticklish before pouting at the continued ministrations - or at least she does until Tyrande cheekily dips a finger into her navel, causing her to splutter into childish giggles, gripping other elf's shoulders and pushing her away playfully. Tyrande knows these reactions stem from a side to Maiev that very few see and no-one sees on a regular basis; she feels honoured that she can get reactions like this at all, given that the last person Maiev shared her silly side with was her brother. To be accepted as family by Maiev Shadowsong... to win her respect, and later her heart... those are things she would never have expected, or wanted, during her time as a priestess. 

Her time with Malfurion, brief though it was, is indelibly burned into her heart, and she tries her best to hide that she is thinking about it; it was not one of rolling in the hills or discussing marriage and the possibility of children. Malfurion knew that his druidly duties would eventually come between them, and what he offered was companionship - trust, affectation and understanding - in whatever moments they could steal for themselves. Illidan has been the opposite - it seems meditating in the Emerald Dream for millennia without seeing the world he lives in ill-suits him, and he comes to her as often as he can find the time (and the excuses) to do so. It's hard to deny he has a point, though; while the threats to the world that lurk in the Emerald Dream must be faced whenever possible, they would risk becoming detached from and uninterested in their homeland if they focused on the issues of the Dream to the exclusion of those they left behind in the waking world. Whenever the druids emerge, the people enjoy their time together as they see fit. In the meantime, many have found ways to cope. And Tyrande? She has found Maiev. Despite them taking a near-instant dislike to each other, despite constantly getting under each other's feet during their time as Wardens, despite their irreconcilably different personalities, they have found each other. Fighting was the start, as it was with all the recruits. Her respect came first; the affections which had followed were unexpected, but much-appreciated. 

Pushing aside any thoughts of her modesty, she wraps her arms around Maiev's waist, pulling her into a hug. The other woman freezes up at first, bewildered, but after a few reassuring whispers from Tyrande she returns the hug with tenderness she seldom shows. She seems determined to dig up sentimental, fuzzy sides of herself to please her mistress and lover. All for Tyrande. A smile graces Tyrande’s features as she whispers something into the elegant ear of her lover, cooing at the blush on her face and guiding her around and back against the wall. Maiev fumbles to take hold of her furry undergarments until Tyrande takes hold of her wrists and draws them behind Maiev's back. "Shh, let me take care of it, dearest," she whispers, playfully nibbling Maiev's lower lobe to distract her from the silken bonds she is using to tie her hands behind her. "I am able and willing to take care of you. All you have to do is..."

She finishes her gentle ropework with a bow-like knot and glances over Maiev's shoulder briefly to admire her handiwork. "...Surrender yourself unto me." 

As Tyrande starts moving down her body, Maiev apparently becomes aware of her hands being bound for the first time and struggles futilely against her bonds. A few selective strokes of Tyrande's tongue around her breasts and against her nipples are enough to slow her protests, and as the normally-so-innocent former priestess presses her lips against her bare belly over and over, her breath exhaling in all the most sensitive places and her hands resting patiently on Maiev's hips, eventually her struggles evaporate. The furry briefs are sliding down her sculpted legs and bundled on top of her feet in no time, and Tyrande takes a moment to admire the cleanness and neatness of Maiev's outer walls. Truly, the woman is all about efficiency. She presses her lips against her lover's folds for a moment, cautious, testing the waters. The stifled moan from her erstwhile captive's lips is all the response she needed. 

"You're going to love this, Maiev," Tyrande reassures her. "And so am I." And without another sound, she plunges her tongue into the waiting clitoris, Maiev's pants and moans and whines tumbling down to her ears like pebbles. 

**Author's Note:**

> It's a good feeling to post a story you finish, so it is.


End file.
